The Little House in the Fairy Wood by Ethel Cook Eliot
page 43 of 126 (34%)
page 43 of 126 (34%)
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perfectly beautiful, that face, that he wanted to shut his eyes against
it. It almost hurt. It was the face of a young woman, very pale, but when her eyes met Eric's they filled with dancing laughter. Her hair under her peaked, white hood glistened blue-black like a river in the snow. She lifted a small white hand and tapped on the window pane, nodding to him merrily. Ivra turned at the sound of the little fingers on the glass. When she saw the face, she started to her feet with a frightened cry, and rushing to the door, drew the bolt. "She can't get in. She can't get in, Eric. Don't be afraid. We are safe." But the poor little girl did not believe her own words. She was trembling. "Why, I'm not afraid," said Eric, running to the window. The merry eyes drew him. Now her mouth danced into smiles with her eyes. She made pretty signs to him to open the window and let her in. But Ivra pulled him back. "Don't you know? It's the Beautiful Wicked Witch!" she whispered. But Eric was impatient. "How can she be wicked when she's so beautiful!" he exclaimed. He was so little used to beautiful people in his life that now he was fascinated and delighted. The Beautiful Wicked Witch looked at Ivra then, and Ivra saw how her eyes were dancing, great black eyes full of splendor and fun. She caught her breath. She laughed back at the Beautiful Wicked Witch. She could not help herself. But her hands flew to her mouth to stop the laugh. |
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